The only way to better ourselves is to admit where we could use some improvement. So, here it goes: I am, without a doubt, a longtime, hardcore, professional bailer.

In other words, I'm that jerk who canceled our plans and has probably ticked you off one too many times in the process.

Yes, I'll often agree to a fun get-together, or even make the plans myself, but when the day arrives, well, let's just say there's a good chance I might back out or at least try to. Or, I'm hoping you do.

Don't get me wrong. I don't like letting down friends, family or anyone, really. If I'm coming off as unabashed by my lack of social commitment, it's only because I know there are so many people out there just like me who don't own up to it. The worst are the in-denial bailers who get mad when others flake on them.

I know I'm not alone because I know some other self-described bailers. Just this week we've sent each other memes about bailing. One reads, "I need more friends who understand that I still want to be invited, but I'm not going." The other is about "retiring from being fun" and just wanting to buy nice candles, be left alone and take a nap.

Ironically, most of our conversations are about not wanting to talk or be around other people. We bailers are such an exclusive group, even we can't hang out with each other.

I've always been aware of my tendency to break off plans, but it didn't truly hit me until I came across a New York Times piece by David Brooks called "The Golden Age of Bailing."

Then there's the guilt and backpedaling: "The people pleaser wants to make everybody happy so says yes to every invitation, with the unconscious knowledge that he can back out later." Done that.

I get hung up on one part of Brooks' assessment, though.

He argues people are lax about plans nowadays because technology has made it easier than ever to cancel, with few or no repercussions. That part's true.

All you have to do is send a simple text and poof, there goes the night's itinerary.

But we're then under this mistaken assumption that no one gets hurt when it's done digitally.

To me, the reason we bailers do what we do, is not because technology allows us to, but because technology is constantly pushing us.

Like many, my job requires a constant connection. Phone calls, text messages, emails, social media. It feels like I'm always talking to someone and when I'm not, I'm preparing for my next interaction. When I finally come home, all I want to do is power down, wear pajamas, cuddle my cat, eat pizza and be by myself, darn it.

And boy, do I try. A friend, on the few occasions I actually see her, literally feels anxiety when she sees all of the unanswered, red notifications on my home screen.

It's all so overwhelming that I, and many others, bail on our favorite people to do absolutely nothing not because we want to, but because we almost feel like we have to for our sanity.

How sad is that?

I'm opening up about my bailing because the madness must stop and I want to help.

I've come up with some ways for us all to become better — for ourselves and for our friends.

• Only commit to what you can realistically handle.

• Surround yourself with people who understand you might say no from time to time.

• Limit social media time — allow yourself time to miss friends so you want to see them.

• When feeling lazy and the urge comes on to cancel plans, play an upbeat song to lift your spirits and change your mind.

• Make plans that don't require a ton of effort — you don't need to dress up, go out or spend a bunch of money to have fun.

• Make a list of fun things you want to do and post it somewhere visible — when thinking of canceling, look at the list as a reminder that if you don't do these things now, you might never get to them.